Alphabet Soup
by NEZUMIso-soup
Summary: This is where I'll post any short stories about Hetalia. Latest addition: Russia and Fincat with one-sided RusFin
1. Atrocious Attempt at Alfred and Arthur

_Hi, this is Soup here! :D I got distracted, and wrote a ficlet, lol. Have some USUK! This is the first time I write any of them, unless you count Artie's brief appearance in Luxembourg, so please go easy on me~  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>An Atrocious Attempt at Alfred and Arthur<strong>

"Haha! I can't see anything!"

Arthur looked up from his book. Alfred's glasses were completely white with vapour from the steaming coffee (if you could actually call it that, Arthur suspected that coffee was a minor component in the beverage). Arthur rolled his eyes and carefully lifted his own paper mug, filled with (real) black tea. The liquid warmed him from within. Almost too much. He could feel his nose starting to run.

"Artie, can't we go inside?" The fog had evaporated from Alfred's glasses, and the teen was shivering ever so slightly, clasping his sugar-shock-masquerading-as-coffee with both his gloveless hands. "It's freezing, and I'm sure there are warmer and comfortabler places to read than a stone bench in a frosty park."

"_More comfortable_, git. If you're not going to use the Queen's English, at least speak your own properly." Arthur did not look up from his book, calmly finishing his tea. "There are several thousands of warmer and _more comfortable_ places, I just thought that this one, at least, should be quiet." The green eyes left the pages with neatly arrayed letters and (for the most part) correct grammar just long enough to send a pointed look in Alfred's direction. "But it seems I was wrong."

The way he said it made it sound almost like a question. It was the calm!Arthur way to say 'STFUFO'. Though, technically they were outside already. Alfred would have used his most adorable kicked-puppy-face to convince Arthur to follow him inside, but that only worked when the persuadee was looking, and Arthur was deliberately not-looking.

Restless and with no apparent way to persuade his friend to leave the cold weather to itself, Arthur started to juggle his half-empty mug back and forth between his hands.

"Arthur, your nose is running."

No reaction.

"Arthur, you'll be sick."

The Briton simply turned the page and continued reading.

The speed at which the coffee mug was changing hands had doubled, and suddenly Alfred was struck with a brilliant idea. He chucked the coffee at Arthur's pants (he took care to avoid the book; Alfred might be stupid sometimes, but by no means was he suicidal).

Arthur yelped and jumped up as if he had burned himself (which he probably had).

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Alfred couldn't help but find the enraged British accent adorable.

"I swear to God, Artie, it wasn't on purpose!" Except it was.

"Now I'll have to walk all the way to my dorm with your bloody poison-drink all over my trousers!"

Alfred grinned.

"_My_ dorm is just around the corner."

Arthur glared at him underneath those thick eyebrows of his (which were also strangely endearing).

"No."

"Why not, Artie? That stain really looks ridiculous."

Arthur looked down at his trousers, fuming. It _did _look ridiculous, at best.

"Fine!" he snapped, "But only for the time it takes to wash my trousers!"

Alfred's grin grew wider.

"Of course!"


	2. Skycolour

**Skycolour**  
><em>France &amp; UK<em>

"My wings were clipped long ago, Arthur," were the last words he remembered from that day that not only the sky turned an ominous red.

They had been neighbours for as long as they could remember. Arthur Kirkland, the stuffy Briton, and Francis Bonnefoi, who had taken the step from 'cute' to 'handsome' over the summer he'd spent in France. They had changed from being 'friends' to 'enemies' and back so many times now that Arthur's brothers couldn't be bothered to ask which it was at any given moment anymore - it would change soon anyway.

Francis had been bragging about his trip to France the entire evening, and would probably have still been talking if it weren't for Arthur, who had snapped and told him to shut it before storming out of the convenience store. Francis had merely grinned as Arthur ran, he loved teasing the Brit.

Arthur hated it. Not the teasing, it was a game they both played, but rather what Francis _didn't _say. There was something in the way he behaved; Arthur could tell there was _something_ wrong, just not _what_.

As it turned out, he did know what. Arthur and Francis would, for the first time since Kindergarten, be in different schools, and Francis worried that he might not be able to make new friends.  
><em>Francis Bonnefoi worried about making friends.<em>  
>It was so ridiculous that Arthur burst out laughing.<p>

* * *

><p>A few weeks later though, he wasn't laughing anymore. Surprisingly, Arthur was the one to have made lots of friends, while Francis was lonely. It wasn't that he was shunned by everyone, the girls <em>adored<em> him, but that just resulted in the guys hating him. He had gotten himself a girlfriend to try to fend them off and get some male friends (it didn't work), a pretty, tanned girl from Seychelles that even Arthur approved of. But she couldn't completely fill the Frenchman's need for socializing, and Francis didn't want a hoard of fangirls, he wanted _friends. _The sky was still as blue as ever.

Arthur heard the rumours before Francis told him anything. The two were sitting on the roofs of their respective schoolhouses. The buildings stood next to each other and used to be a single school until someone decided otherwise. There were fences around the edges, and if only the fence around Arthur's hadn't been so bloody tall he would have climbed over them to go comfort his friend. As it was, Arthur could only silently convey his support by listening to the painfully honest (and true) accounts of what Francis had done together with Gilbert and Antonio.

"So stop it," Arthur said.

"If I don't hurt myself I'll end up hurting someone else," Francis whispered remorsefully under a cloud-gray sky.

"I'm not allowed to play," Francis blurted out one day.

"Pardon?" Arthur asked stupidly before he processed the statement. "Why not? You're the best pianist I've ever heard!"

"You haven't heard Roderich play," Francis said, with no emotion behind his pale blue eyes. It was ridiculous that a mere fence should keep Arthur away from his friend when he so needed someone next to him.

"But she said you were her 'Ange de Musique'!"

Francis climbed up to sit on 'his' fence.

"Angel, huh?" Francis chuckled hollowly. "My wings were clipped long ago, Arthur." Thoughtfully he let a shoe drop down through the red evening light, landing with a soft thud four floors below. His eyes glazed over. "How I would have liked to fly once."

"Francis -!"

He regretted throwing himself to the void like that. I could see the panic and the plea for help in his eyes when he finally looked at me that last time. He was always such a coward.

But I was never allowed to save him.

Fences are installed for 'safety reasons', huh.

* * *

><p><em>Hmm. This turned out pretty darn gloomy.<em>

_Inspired by 'Skyblue!' (literally: Skycolour) by Kagamine Len, though it was supposed to be happier at first._


	3. Engel

Where did the music come from? Gilbert listened closely. Maybe it wasn't music after all, maybe he just imagined it...

No, there it was again! He stood up. This had to be investigated! The music sounded familiar, and as he got closer he recognised it. It was Rammstein's "Engel". The only thing was, no one at school, as far as he knew, would be listening to Rammstein, even less so at this volume, alone, on the edge of the forest at the edge of the grounds. He was pretty sure he knew all the German-speaking students - despite their bickering and occasional feuds they were a pretty tight-knit society - and none of those were very likely to be listening to that kind of music.

The mystery of it all made him carefully sneak closer to the unknown student.

_Sie leben hinterm Sonnenschein  
>getrennt von uns unendlich weit<br>Sie müssen sich an Sterne krallen (ganz fest)  
>damit sie nicht vom Himmel fallen<em>

It would have looked really dumb, but somehow that boy made air guitar look pretty cool. Gilbert recognised him. It was that quiet, Finnish guy that used to hang with the other Nordics, the one that smiled a lot. Who knew he'd have a lame hobby like that. Go figure.

Except it did look pretty cool. The music wasn't particularly heavy in _Engel, _but Gilbert noticed that the Finn - what was his name again? - even fingered real accords on his invisible guitar. Gilbert couldn't tell if they were the right ones, but it looked pretty realistic. And very aggressive. _You have a lot of pent-up frustration there, buddy, _Gilbert thought to himself as he watched the Finn continue into the refrain.

_Erst wenn die Wolken schlafengehn  
>Kann man uns am Himmel sehn<br>Wir haben Angst und sind allein  
>Gott weiß ich will kein Engel sein<em>

He had a great expression there. Gilbert picked up his phone and snapped a picture. It could go on his blog. No one read it anyway, so he'd face no problems.

_Erst wenn die Wolken schlafengehn  
>Kann man uns am Himmel sehn<br>Wir haben Angst und sind allein_

For the last line the Finn's absolute concentration faltered a little as he closed his eyes and sang along:

_Gott weiß ich will kein Engel sein!_

He might never become a singer, but the voice sent shivers down Gilbert's spine. There was something that really appealed to him in the Finn's slight mispronunciation of his language, and the raw feelings let out as he did so.

A moment of silence followed as the little radio reached the end of the CD, and the only things to be heard was the Finn's heavy breathing as he lowered his arms and the rustling leaves as the early winter winds gently shook them off the branches.

Gilbert chose this awesomely dramatic moment to reveal himself, stepping into the other student's field of view.

"You don't want to be an angel?" Gilbert asked, grinning widely. The Finn coloured as he realised he'd been watched, but kept his face carefully blank.

"Not if I can help it," he said, rather awesomely. Gilbert decided right then and there that this guy could join his exclusive circle of friends. He grinned even wider.

"I could help you with that!"

* * *

><p><em>Something I wrote for SomaticDelusions on Tumblr, she requested a PruFin ficlet. :B<em>  
><em>Might<em> _continue this sometime, though it's far from certain._


	4. It Rained in the Capital

There had been very little snow this year. Almost none in the capital. Luxembourg didn't mind much; sure, snow was fun for a while, but it always ended up with soggy messes that only created sour socks, sour moods and five-hour traffic jams on journeys that usually took thirty minutes.

Like last year. Utter chaos.

How high had the snow gone again? Up to his knees?

It was a bit embarrassing how badly equipped they had been. No road salt available in the entirety of Europe (no shovels either, Finland was very frustrated he couldn't meet the demand), few of his citizens bothered with winter tires (those who did usually came from snowier regions and scoffed at people who thought knee-level snow was bad) and people had abandoned their cars on the roads to sleep at friends' or even barely-acquainted colleagues', just to escape the nightmare conditions on the roads. He felt bad for all the commuters; many who worked in Luxembourg lived in Germany, France or Belgium, some even as far as Netherlands. He wondered how those had dealt with the awful weather…

Still, the almost complete lack of snow this year left him a little sad. The other day there had been some hail, but mostly it was just rainy, or worse still, only overcast. The vast expanses of gray (even though you could argue Luxembourgish lands weren't that vast at all) left him melancholic. Snow made the children happy, and their happiness was his happiness. How he wished he could have feelings as clear as the children.

2012 had begun. A new year, just as usual, with another threat of the world ending. Just how many 'ends of the world' had he lived through? How many had those countries older than him lived through? He dismissed the thought. He didn't even remember his own numbers, how could the others remember? Even though he wasn't as young as that.

He smiled to himself as he remembered the times he had governed over the Holy Roman Empire. Or Germany, as he supposed he'd be called for a long time now, though Germany didn't remember it. Ah yes, those times he had possessed much larger territories… Damn his neighbours. Or not. Cursing his neighbours was not a good way to start the year. And in the end, it was due to them (or Russia and Great Britain, really,) that he was independent.

He looked over to the sofa by the fireplace, where what was formerly Prussia lay sprawled, the cushions having been pushed down on the floor. At first, Luxembourg had been quite uncomfortable with Prussia's irregular and always sudden appearances, often drunk out of his senses, but as the albino came by more and more often he gradually got used to it. Eventually, Prussia started coming by sober, and then staying days and even weeks at a time. Luxembourg hadn't asked, Prussia had always been someone greater than him and mostly feared, but he figured that it was hard for the ex-nation to see all his former neighbours, allies, enemies, friends and lovers continuing their existence without him. Not that they shunned him, but it wasn't quite the same. Part of Prussia's alienation was probably due to the rapid advances in technology; the nations quickly adapted because their populations did, but Prussia no longer had a people to teach him. And having lived as long as they all had, it got quite overwhelming, these changes. Luxembourg had no idea why staying with him was any better; perhaps it was only because he was always considered younger, and not as relevant?

This was the longest Prussia had ever stayed. _It must be almost a month now, _Luxembourg realised, marvelling at the fact that it had started to feel normal, having a subdued, almost-permanently-drunk-or-hung-over being in his house. A empty _thunk _sounded as one of those extra stupidly large football-edition beer - cans? _Barrels? _- fell out of Prussia's grip and landed on the floor, toppling over and regurgitated the rest of the contents, that which Prussia hadn't managed to swallow before he fell asleep, over the floor.

Luxembourg sighed and went to the kitchen to get a rag. Cleaning up after the man was getting tiring. He really should tell Prussia to get his act together, _God knows that Germany won't, _he thought. As strict and proper as Germany could be, he had no clue what to do with his older brother. Or would-be brother. _None of us could ever truly be related, anyway…_

"I'm sorry, _Gustchen…_" Luxembourg almost dropped the can/barrel back on the floor in surprise. He hadn't heard that nickname since… Since he had lived in Prussia's house, back during the Zollverein. Heck, he hadn't heard anyone use his human name in forever, either. "I know I'm only trouble," Prussia snivelled and rubbed his eyes, partly to rub away drunken tears, partly because his head hurt and he couldn't see clearly.

Luxembourg sighed. "Go to sleep, Prussia." _He won't remember this tomorrow anyway…_

"_N- Nein!_ Really, I'm really sorry!" Prussia propped himself up on an elbow with some difficulty, and half-heartedly reached out his hand towards Luxembourg. When he found he couldn't reach the short nation, he let the hand drop to the floor on the side of the sofa. "I'm really sorry…" Prussia repeated. "I just can't stand watching them, you know? West, Specs, Hungary, France, Spain… They're all _still there, _and I'm not. I'm not really here. I _shouldn't be here!"_

Luxembourg shifted uncomfortably. "Don't say that."

"I almost welcomed it, you know?" Prussia whispered. "Disappearing." He laughed darkly. "Rejoining Old Fritz."

"Don't say that."

"I can't even see his grave anymore. He's not there anymore anyway." He stared up into the ceiling for a while, Luxembourg slowly counting his breaths. _1, 2, 3… _He couldn't imagine what it was like, loving a human that much. Missing a human that much, for that long. Probably a good thing too. _4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13…_

"I kind of want to see if there's a heaven. _Ob wir auch dahin gehen können._"

Something wanted to break inside Luxembourg, only he wasn't allowed to break on his own. It wasn't possible, him breaking from his feelings. They weren't his feelings proper. They could stretch, stretch, stretch until they felt like ending themselves, nations, but they weren't allowed. And through it all, they had to stay lucid. If it could be called lucidity.

Probably that was why Prussia wasn't allowed to leave. Germany had made him a representant for the eastern part of his country, tying Prussia back to Earth. Luxembourg couldn't imagine how Germany had done it, but it was the only possible reason.

_"Geh nicht."_

_Bitte geh nicht._

Prussia's head rolled slowly around so he could look at Luxembourg. His red eyes widened ever so little in suprise.

_"Weinst du?"_

Luxembourg looked down. A teardrop fell down on his hand. Yes. Yes, he was crying. That he could do. It was allowed. More teardrops fell, rolling off the back of his hand. It rained in the capital.

_"Bitte weint nicht,"_ Prussia said, his eyes glazing over. _"Das bin ich nicht wert."_

_Doch. Doch._

Luxembourg leaned onto the sofa, covering his face with his arms.

It rained in the capital.

_Oh dear, look at how long this is! It was supposed to only be a paragraph or two out of boredom! It's 1216 goddamn words! D8__  
><em>_The things I come up with when I'm in that weird mood. I wish I could always turn it into something productive. Rain does weird things to me…_


	5. Chocolat Amer

After a while of warm, sunny weather, April did its usual number and became cold and gray. It had been expected, of course, but it was a pity on all the flowers that had sprouted both on the ground and on the branches of trees. The smaller flowers stood little chance of surviving if there was a sudden spring snow. Luxembourg remembered several occasions on which he had seen cherry blossom petals fall along with great flakes of snow. It was pretty, of course, but after such warm weather you didn't want to dig out your winter coat again.

Nonetheless, it had to be done, if you didn't want to freeze to death. Dismayed, Luxembourg noticed that his coat was in a less pristine condition than he'd have normally liked, but it would have to do. He wasn't going out to meet anyone anyway, just buy something to make for dinner. Nothing fancy. Of course, what Luxembourg considered fancy, and what others considered fancy, might be just a slight bit different.

The snow only ever piled up in the country-side or in dark corners of the city, on the roads and sidewalks it turned into slush and seeped into your shoes and soaked your socks and the hems of your trousers, chilling you to the bone. Shivering, Luxembourg stepped into a convenience store that he didn't usually go to just to get out of the cold. It wasn't that the store was bad, nor was it far away, he just went to another out of pure habit. As a result, he was unfamiliar with the layout of the store, and had to look for the items on his list more than usual. When he got to what should have been the pasta aisle, it was in fact the rows for baking supplies, and among the rows stood a familiar person.

"Moiën, België!" Luxembourg smiled. "How come you're here?"

The older male spun around, with a bright smile of his own. "Luxi!" He bent down and hugged the shorter nation, ruffling Luxembourg's brown locks while getting his own, shorter blond in his eyes. "I'd like to say that I'm shopping on the way home, but, uh…" He chuckled. "My car actually broke down. One of the few downsides of not having a proper government is not having anyone to call to pick you up and drive you home at inconvenient hours."

"You know I could drive you home if you only asked," Luxembourg pointed out.

"I know, but I honestly cannot be bothered with the cross-border traffic…" Belgium made a face. "I don't fancy sitting in a car for six hours or more…"

"How about you come over, then? The apartment's not far off, and I was just shopping for dinner anyway. An extra person won't make much difference."

Belgium lit up. "In that case, I can make some pralines for dessert! I've been working up a real craving for chocolate standing here."

"That sounds wonderful."

"Then, it's a sleepover! It'll be just like when we were small! Only less messy."

"I should hope so," Luxembourg said, but was only mock serious. Belgium grinned.

* * *

><p>"Here, take these. You need some dry clothes."<p>

Belgium looked into the wardrobe.

"Lux, not even half of those are your size, and _those_," he said, pointing, "Are not your _gender_."

"Calm down," Luxembourg said, rolling his eyes. "France kept sending me stuff after I asked him to get that suit for me for last year's New Year's. At first I sold whatever didn't fit me, but after quite a few cases of people needing somewhere to crash and clothes to wear, I decided to keep them. These are from the winter collection, and they are actually quite warm, so change. I'll go get the dinner going. You can do your part afterwards."

Luxembourg picked up the plastic shopping bags and turned to leave.

"Luxi…" Belgium hesitated, but then smiled again. "Thank you."

Luxembourg paused, and searched Belgium's face for a trace of the emotion that lay behind the hesitation, but didn't find anything.

"No problem."

"You do realise that this is going to be way too much."

Belgium laughed, brushing some flour off the winter collection sweater.

* * *

><p>"Sorry, I got a bit carried away."<p>

On a spare grill already lay a batch of thin cookies and half a batch of pralines, the rest of the chocolate for the pralines were slowly melting in a deep plate on top of a casserole of boiling water and a chocolate cake was just about ready in the oven.

"I guess we could give some to Netherlands…"

"Nah, he wasn't overly friendly with me the last time I saw him."

"And you were perfectly civil back?"

"Of course!" Belgium then busied himself getting the cake out to cool and perfecting the pralines. Luxembourg watched him roll the chocolate into smooth pearls, adding swirls of white and black chocolate into them. It _was_ just like when they were small. Only that had been in a castle of stone and with servants around to clean up every speck of dirt that landed anywhere, and with Netherlands trailing behind and making sure they didn't dirty their clothes.

Luxembourg had still been very young at this time, and had accepted it without question, but Belgium had found it hard to adjust, and eventually that led to the splitting of the Kingdom. It was better now, but Belgium and Netherlands still got into fights occasionally. Nothing too serious though, and most of the time they got along okay.

"Okay, it's done!" Belgium was practically glowing with happiness. "Let's start with the cake, the cookies are almost imperishable, and the pralines are better cold."

"I'll get some plates-"

"Oh come on, we don't need plates for this," Belgium said, cutting the cake into slices. "Just take it in your hand."

Luxembourg sighed, but took the cake in his hand.

"Let me at least get some napkins."

"Now, now. Some dirt is only good for you." Belgium placed the cake on a stool, and then pulled down Luxembourg next to him on the floor.

"It'll be cold!" Luxembourg protested.

"Not in front of the oven," Belgium countered with a smile, putting his arm around Luxembourg. "You need to loosen up a little, Lux. You work too hard."

"I don't want to hear that from the country holding the record of having no government," Luxembourg scoffed, but made no effort to move away. The chocolate cake was warm and slightly sticky, and made his hands sticky as well. Belgium had no problem with it; he just licked it off his hand and took another piece. After a moment's hesitation, Luxembourg did the same. Heat radiated to his back from the oven and to his side from Belgium, and everything smelled sweet. He felt himself relax, getting drowsy, drifting off…

"Wouldn't it be nice if it could be like this all the time?"

Luxembourg looked up. Belgium was still smiling, but it was a slightly sadder smile. Like bitter chocolate.

"…Is it something you want to talk about?"

Belgium breathed in deeply, and then shook his head.

"No. I just want to sit here a while longer."

Luxembourg nodded. The two of them simply sat for a long time, sharing silence and cake and warmth. For a second, Luxembourg thought Belgium might cry, but then the moment passed, and they simply sat again for the entire time it took for the oven to cool and for them to freeze. They got up stiffly, took one look at the kitchen and decided cleaning up would have to be for the next day.

"Thank you, Luxembourg."

"No need to thank me. I needed it too, probably."

"Hmm... Well, bonne nuit."

"Bonne nuit."


	6. Cats and Cocoa

"Here, kitty, kitty…"

Russia crouched down and stretched his hand out towards the cream and white coloured cat with the Finnish flag-ribbon around his neck. The cat definitely had some kind of weird and tasteless name, knowing Finland, but Russia had never heard it, so he simply called the cat Fincat. In fact, he thought he'd heard Japan refer to the cat as Fincat at some point, probably because whatever Finland had chosen to name the cat was not only tasteless but also long and with tongue-twister quality.

The cat looked at him suspiciously for a while, tail twitching nervously from side to side. Russia remained patiently still, waiting for the cat to come to him. After a moment's hesitation, the cat padded slowly forward to carefully smell his fingers. Russia felt his face light up in a smile. He loved cats, and his own Siberian Russicat was sleeping inside on the hearth. But he'd tried to befriend Fincat for a very long time now, and this little success was huge for him. He recognised so much of Finland himself in the cat, their calm and friendly demeanor, though still playful when it suited them, their hair colour, even their eye-colour…

He did miss Finland, very much. Somehow the fact that Finland never really bowed down to his decisions had made him that much more memorable, and also the fact that Finland had genuinely tried to get along with him, even though he had rejected the idea of a true friendship… Or rather, had been to paranoid to see it that way. In his eyes, everyone had been enemies. Everyone.

He must have made a scary face, because Fincat meowed and ran away a few steps.

Ah, nonono! Not now!

But it was too late. The cat ducked in under some bushes and left only scattered pawprints behind in the snow. Russia let out a heavy sigh, sitting down on his doorstep. Oh well. There was some progress at least. And well back inside, Russia could huddle up under some blankets in front of the fire, and Russicat would come over, lying on his cold feet to warm them up. For a moment, the daydream extended to a Finnish pair joining them, with hot cocoa between their hands and only blankets between their cold bodies…

Meow!

Russicat could be heard scraping on the door from the inside, wanting to go out. The catflap had frozen again. "Coming, coming…" Russia brushed off the snow from his old and worn coat, star-shaped medal bravely hanging on, and opened the door. One piece of unconditional love was better than none, he supposed, as Russicat brushed against his leg and purred before disappearing around the corner of the house. He'd be back soon, though. He'd just go inside, and put his feet by the fire until the cat returned. He'd try again with Fincat. And maybe, just maybe, with Finland too…


End file.
